Touch
by LostInAWrittenWorld
Summary: Oneshot. Carson Beckett takes care of a scientist who was captured. John decides to lend a hand. Short and kinda sweet. Not slash.


A/N: Okay, so it's really more of a 'two shot' than a oneshot, the point is, it's a very small story that I felt just had to be written! Enjoy!

Beckett placed the medical bag down carefully and kneeled. The young woman, only twenty three, lay still on the cold stone floor, a metal shackle encircling her wrist, the chain leading to the wall. Cold steel, the only thing between her and freedom.

She didn't look malnourished, per say, though she did look signifigent thinner. The bowl not far from her head showed remnants of her meal. Light brown mush, the consistency of oatmeal. The Nartaries had explained that the food they serve, while not all that tasty, contained the basic nutrients to sustain human life.

He lifted her free wrist and checked her pulse, tuning out the sounds of negotiations between Elizabeth and the council. A science team had been checking out the local wildlife, and had no idea that they were trespassing. Eliza, who had wandered a little way from the group to check out a particularly rare sounding bird cry, had been captured. When the rest of the team had realized her disappearance, they had immediately called for backup. Almost as soon as John and his team had arrived, they had been met by a group of men from a nearby village. It wasn't till a couple of days later that they discovered the reason they had believed the world uninhabited was because the entire village was built into the side of a mountain, completely hidden from strangers. The negotiations had been going slower than they'd like, and John was itching to blast his way in, but Elizabeth had forbidden it. For now. All the Nartaires really wanted was safety from the wraith. Like Atlantis, they too were trying to hide their existence. They didn't want to hurt anyone, but they wanted to guaranty their safety. It was thirteen days since her capture and it seemed as though she was finally getting to go home.

He had been briefed as to the wound on her shoulder. They said yesterday she had gone stir crazy, crying and screaming. She became frantic and began to ram herself into the hook in the wall that onto her steel leash. As he gently pulled back her shirt, revealing her shoulder, he had to admit that the damage did seem consistent with their story. She'd be able to tell them when she'd woken up. The Nartaries had freely admitted to adding a mild sedative to her food to keep her from further injuring herself.

Carson unzipped his medical bag and pulled out hydrogen peroxide and sterile gauze. Damping the material he began to gently wipe her shoulder, removing the dried blood. She had laid on her right side, causing the blood to trickle sideways instead of down her arm. The wound wasn't deep, she had stopped before she had done any real damage, but there still was a fair amount of blood, down towards her chest and up her neck. As he gently cleaned her, sliding his fingers under her bra strap to remove the dried stream, he contemplated the Nartaries. They were an odd culture, to be sure. Never once had they given any names, and never once had they called one. They simply were the Nartaries. It was almost as they wished to keep themselves as separated as possible. They were never rude, just… distant. Polite, but never referred to any of the Atlantians by their names. They simply were 'you'.

He finished cleaning and wrapped a white bandage to her arm. Even as gentle as he was, the wound had begun to bleed again. There was more that had dried across her chest and back, but he chose to wait and clean that later. Let her keep what dignity she had left.

John, Loran and a few other soldiers came over.

"Everything ready Doc?" Sheppard asked.

"Aye, she's already to go."

"Good. We've been given the go ahead, we're free to take her."

Beckett grabbed his medical bag and stood back, hovering protectively as the men placed her on the stretcher. A older man crossed the room holding the steel ring of keys, same color of his hair. He slide the metal into the lock and it snapped open, revealing her wrist to be red and slightly bruised, though the doctor guessed that was her own doing and not theirs. He let out a quiet sigh, glad to know that she was finally getting to go home.

It was getting late into the night. All the medical staff had left the infirmary, except for the night nurse who was sitting by Eliza's bed, talking idly with her.

"How's she doing, Doc?" Sheppard said quietly as he strolled into the infirmary.

"She doing well. And how about you? Haven't been getting hurt again have you?" The Scottish doctor stared hard at the military officer.

"Nah, just came to see how she was doing."

Beckett's glare let up. "Aye, I'm glad you did, son. I don't think she's stopped talking to Sarah since the poor girl's entered the room."

John hopped onto a cot, crossing his feet and leaning back, his weight on his hands. "Oh? I don't remember her being that talkative."

Beckett looked through the door at the young woman. "She's been though a lot."

Sheppard looked confused and there was a look of apprehension in his eyes. . "I thought you said she was alright?"

"Aye, physically she's fine, be up and about in a day or two, but mentally, she still a little lost."

"What did they do?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" John repeated, the apprehension disappearing, leaving only the confusion on his face.

"Exactly that, nothing. The only thing they did was feed her. They treated her as though she didn't exist, like she wasn't chained to their wall!" A small bit of the anger inside of him released on those few words and John stared at him, reading him, till Carson turn back towards the table and his clip board on it.

John stared a few extra seconds, then looked at the woman, who was smiling happily at the nurse, though the smile was careful, as though unsure how long this happiness could really last.

He shook his head. "I don't get it. I would much rather be ignored."

Beckett slide the clipboard into its home, a long day, finally at its end. "Did you know they've done studies? In the 1940's they found that babies who didn't receive touch were more likely to die. You may not understand it, but to be ignored for that long, it's not just upsetting, it's unhealthy. Now if you will excuse me, it's late and I've got an early start tomorrow."

"Yeah, see you around Doc." Sheppard said absently.

He sat a few more minutes, occasionally kicking his legs back and forth, and thinking. From where he sat, he could just see Eliza, though he wasn't sure she could see him, or had even looked. She had been staring in the nurse's general direction for quite a while now. She was probably subconsciously afraid that if she looked away, then the other woman would disappear. Oddly enough, Sheppard could relate to that feeling.

He slide off the table and entered the room. "Hey Eliza, how ya doing?"

She smiled, still that same careful smile, and gave him a small wave. Sarah rose, giving Eliza a mock stern frown. "I was just telling her that she needs to get some sleep."

"Well, you don't mind if I sit here a couple of minutes, do you? " He asked, sliding deftly around the blond nurse and planting himself in the chair before she had a chance to respond. She looked from Sheppard to Eliza, then back again, then shook her head. "As long as you don't keep her up too long."

"I'll go to sleep, don't worry." Eliza promised.

The nurse, reassured, but not greatly, walked away. After she was out of earshot, Eliza leaned towards Sheppard. "She didn't really need to tell me, I think I'm about to fall asleep now."

Sheppard grinned and nodded. He'd been in her place before, he knew the routine. But what she did next surprised him. As she slide down, turning slightly and leaning her face into the pillow, she reached out and grabbed his hand, tucked it close to her and closing her eyes. Unsure what to do, he nearly pulled his hand away. But just before he did though, he remembered what Beckett had said, about the babies. With her eyes closed, a brown lock of hair across her face, she looked young, too young. Instead he reached out his other hand, hesitated, then gently, awkwardly, patted her hand. She smiled slightly, the smile of someone who knows that they are finally, and completely, safe.


End file.
